Chapter 10

There's complete silence in the audience as what I've said sinks in. I keep my eyes down, feeling exposed. I look up a moment later to see that the cameras have moved over to Katniss, her mouth half open in surprise, the color in her cheeks rising as what I've said sinks in for her, too. Then she presses her lips together and stares at the floor. I close my eyes for a moment, mortification mixing in with the rest of my jumbled emotions.

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," says Caesar and there's a real edge of pain to his voice. The crowd is murmuring their agreement; some have even given agonized cries.

"It's not good," is all I can answer with.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady," he says "She didn't know?"

I shake my head. "Not until now."

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar asks the audience. No. I wouldn't. I think to myself. Not when she's the hardest person to convince out of everyone. The crowd screams assent at Caesar's question.

"Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours." The audience is deafening with their cheers. My words have done their job, now I just have to deal with the feeling of exposure- like I've now shown them everything about myself- that goes with what I've said. As the crowd finally settles down, I choke out a quiet "Thank you" and return to my seat. We stand for the anthem, and I see that every screen is now dominated by a shot of Katniss and me, separated by a few feet that can never be breached. I know to the viewers, it's just a tragic form of entertainment. But for me, it's just painful.

After the anthem, the tributes file back into the Training Center lobby and onto the elevators. Katniss avoids my car and heads for a different one. I try not to think about what that might mean. The crowd slows our entourages of stylists and chaperones and mentors, so we only have each other for company. Luckily, none of the Careers are on the elevator with me, so we only ride in silence. My elevator stops to deposit five tributes, and then I'm alone. I'm just stepping off when I see Katniss and she storms toward me, slamming her palms into my chest. Her anger and her attack surprise me and I lose balance, falling backward into an urn filled with fake flowers. The urn tips over and shatters. I fall into the mess and feel shards of pottery cut into my skin, blood immediately flowing from my hands. Seeing Katniss after the interviews, I had expected confusion or embarrassment, or maybe even, as a part of me had hoped, that she would tell me she felt the same way. But I hadn't expected anger from her.

"What was that for?" I ask, aghast.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" she shouts at me, her gray eyes now like pieces of steel.

Now the elevators open and our whole crew spills out: Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia.

"What's going on?" says Effie, a note of panic in her voice. "Did you fall?"

"After she shoved me," I say as Effie and Cinna help me up. Haymitch turns on Katniss, "Shoved him?"

"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?" she says to Haymitch angrily.

"It was my idea," I say, wincing as I pull out a shard of pottery from my hand. "Haymitch just helped me with it."

Now she thinks I made her look like some kind of fool, which wasn't what I had been trying to do all. If anything, I've made myself look like a fool.

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she spits out, even more angrily.

"You are a fool," Haymitch says in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."

"He made me look weak!" she shouts.

"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!"

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.

It's in her answer that I feel like a ton of coal just dropped on my chest. Not only is she angry at me, and thinks that I made her look weak (which wasn't what I had been trying to do), but she just doesn't care for me that way. At all. Even with the circumstances of being thrown into the arena tomorrow, I still feel the sting of rejection. But I also feel like the true fool, since I'm the one who announced that I was in love with Katniss on national television. I watch as Haymitch grabs Katniss by the shoulders and pins her against the wall.

"Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself is a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?" says Haymitch.

Katniss shoves his hands off her shoulders and steps away from him. Cinna comes over to Katniss and puts his arm around her. "He's right, Katniss" he tells her.

"I should've been told, so I didn't look so stupid." She says.

"No you're reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real." Says Portia, gently.

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," I say bitterly, thinking of her friend Gale Hawthorne and how he and Katniss are probably together, probably more than friends, which makes me feel even more like an idiot. I pull out a piece of bloody pottery from my hand and throw it aside.

"I don't have a boyfriend." She says going red.

"Whatever," I say gruffly. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it." Even if it wasn't a bluff I think to myself. "Besides, you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"

Katniss's anger begins to fade. When she speaks, she's a lot calmer. "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?" she asks.

"I did," says Portia. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush." The others begin to chime in, agreeing with her. Now it's all a tactic. A strategy for the Games.

"You're golden, sweetheart. You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block," says Haymitch. Katniss looks down, embarrassed. Then she looks over at me. "I'm sorry I shoved you." She says.

"Doesn't matter," I say, indifference beginning to color my tone. "Although it's technically illegal."

"Are your hands okay?" she asks

"They'll be alright." I answer, letting the silence hang over us. The smells from dinner begin to waft in from the dining room. "Come on, let's eat." Says Haymitch, breaking the silence. We follow him into the dining room and take our places, but then my hands are bleeding too heavily and Portia leads me off for medical treatment. So they start on the soup without us.

Portia and I are perfectly silent while the medic works on my cuts. I think she can tell that I don't really want to talk at the moment, and she stays quiet while the medic wraps bandages around my hands.

We return to dinner just as everyone is finishing the soup. Katniss avoids my eyes guiltily as I sit down. After dinner, we watch the replay of the interviews. Katniss is charming in the way she twirls in her dress, but even I can't deny that my declaration was the highlight of the night, making us both unforgettable, especially Katniss.

When the anthem finishes and the screen goes dark, a hush falls over the room. Tomorrow at dawn, we will be roused and prepared for the arena. The Games don't start until ten, but we'll be made ready to travel to the arena. Haymitch and Effie won't be going with us. As soon as they leave, they'll be going to the Games Headquarters where they'll be signing our sponsor deals for us and working out a strategy for how and when to deliver gifts to us. Portia and Cinna will travel with us to the very spot where we will be launched into the arena. All our good-byes must be said here.

Effie approaches us first, and, with actual tears in her eyes, wishes us well. Thanks us for being the best tributes it has ever been her privilege to sponsor. And, because it's Effie, she adds "I wouldn't be at all surprised if I finally get promoted to a decent district next year!" Then she kisses us each on the cheek and hurries out, overcome with either the emotional parting or the possible change in her fortunes. Haymitch comes next, crossing his arms and looking us both over.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask, fully trusting Haymitch now.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither up to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance between yourself and the others, and find a source of water. Got it?"

I know his advice is more aimed at Katniss, since he's trying to make sure that Katniss doesn't know I'm with the Careers. But I listen anyway, in case things change.

"And after that?" Katniss asks.

"Stay alive." He tells us, except this time he's not drunk and laughing at us. We only nod. What else is there to say?

As Katniss heads toward her room, I stay behind to talk to Portia. When Katniss's door closes, I begin to speak. "I wanted to say, thank you. For everything you've done."

"You're welcome." She answers smiling. "Good luck tomorrow. I know you'll do well." I nod as an answer.

"You did well out there tonight, too, especially with what you said about Katniss."

"Thank you." I say quietly.

"You should get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Peeta." She says, kissing my cheek the way Effie did. But unlike, Effie, her words actually feel sincere and not selfish to me. I go to my room, take a shower to wash out the powders and hair products, get dressed, and climb into bed. After a few minutes, I realize that I won't be able to fall asleep. Not with my mind buzzing the way it is. Tomorrow the Games will begin. I won't win, but I want to make it past day one. No, I want something more than that when the Games begin. But what? What do I want from this, before I die? The question keeps my mind buzzing for hours until I finally climb out of bed and walk out into the hall. I find my way to the stairs that leads to the roof, glad that it's unlocked.

Just as it did before, the windy air from the top of the tower calms me down. I walk over to the edge and lean as far as I can without being thrown back. I take a deep breath, listening to the commotion going on down in the streets, the honking of car horns, the music, and the singing. What do I want from these Games? To prove that I'm strong enough to survive as long as I can? No, that's not what I want. To prove that I'm playing these Games by my own rules? My own terms? Something like that.

A voice speaks from behind me. "You should be getting some sleep." Says Katniss. I start, but don't turn to face her. It's amazing how silently she moved across the tile. I shake my head as my answer to her comment. "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all." I say with a hint of irony in my voice. She comes up beside me and leans over the edge of the rail, looking down. "Are they in costumes?" she asks.

"Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here. Couldn't sleep either?" I ask.

"Couldn't turn off my mind."

"Thinking about your family?" I guess, figuring that's what she would be thinking about, especially as she's about to face the arena in her sister's place.

"No," she admits guiltily. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course." She pauses for a moment, looking at my hands. "I really am sorry about your hands."

"It doesn't matter, Katniss. I've never been a contender in these Games anyway." I tell her, finally speaking the truth to her.

"That's no way to be thinking." she says.

"Why not? It's true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and…" I hesitate.

"And what?" she asks.

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only…" I think for a moment. "I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" She shakes her head as an answer. "I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." I confess to her. Katniss bites her lip for a moment, and then speaks. "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" she asks.

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…" the right words finally come to me as I say them. "To show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."

"But you're not." She says. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."

"Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," I insist, hoping she understands me, that I'm not just wasting my breath. "Don't you see?" I ask.

"A little. Only… no offense, but who cares, Peeta?" she says. She doesn't get it, she doesn't see, and my frustration builds.

"I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?" I ask angrily. I look straight into her silvery-gray eyes, demanding an answer. She takes a step back from me before she speaks. "Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive."

This is exactly the answer I didn't want to hear. I smile sadly at her, with a little bit of mockery mixing into my sadness.

"Okay, thanks for the tip, sweetheart." I say, using Haymitch's nickname for her.

The anger and hurt in her expression, like she'd just been slapped in the face, is obvious. "Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve." She says angrily.

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do. Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?" I say bitingly.

"Count on it." She spits back. She turns and heads back toward the door to our floor below. I let her go, still frustrated with her.

She doesn't get it, she doesn't see it. All she wants is to make it home. I want her to make it home too, because she's a tribute who's actually stood a chance in these Games. She'll live and make it home, and she won't even know that I was telling the truth about how I felt, and she doesn't understand me now, my refusal to be a piece in the Capitol's sick Games. I won't let them turn me into some kind of monster in there. But what if Katniss turns into that? What if her indifference now turns her into something as bloodthirsty as any Career? No, she won't I say to myself. She volunteered for Prim. She has people she cares about, people she loves. She won't turn into a monster with them watching.

I think about how I told Katniss how I wanted to die as myself. How I wasn't going to be a Capitol pawn. So far, I've done the best I could with what I've been given. Haven't I accepted that I won't win? Given as much as I can to help Katniss, who can win? That's something the Capitol wouldn't want, a tribute trying to help another tribute over himself. The Capitol wants the tributes to think only of themselves and their survival, even if they know that a tribute won't make it. That's what makes the Games entertaining for them, watching tributes like me try and fail. I've done everything I could, now I just have to see how it all plays out tomorrow in the arena. Finally, I turn back and leave the roof for bed.

In the morning, I don't see Katniss. Portia comes to me before dawn, gives me a simple outfit to wear and guides me to the roof. My final dressing and preparations will be alone in the catacombs under the arena itself. A hovercraft appears and a ladder drops down at my feet. I place my hands on the lower rung and grip the upper rungs, feeling a current freeze my body as the ladder pulls me up. The ladder doesn't release me when I'm inside the hovercraft. Instead, a man in a white coat approaches me with a syringe. "This is just your tracker, Peeta. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it." He tells me calmly. Still? I can't even move. I think, as he sticks the needle inside my arm and inserts the metal tracking device deep under the skin of my forearm. I may be frozen, but that doesn't stop the stab of pain when he inserts the tracker into my arm. Now the Gamemakers will always know where I am throughout the entire Games.

When the tracker is in place, the man disappears, the ladder releases me, and Portia is lifted in from the roof. A blonde Avox girl leads us to where breakfast has been laid out. As nervous as I am, I eat as much as I can. Who knows the next time I'll be able to get food? If I'm even alive to see more food.

We fly over the city into the wilderness beyond. I watch as it all disappears under me and the arena draws closer. The ride lasts about a half an hour before the windows black out, suggesting that we're nearing the arena. The hovercraft lands and we go back to the ladder. This time, the ladder leads down into a tube underground, into the catacombs that lie beneath the arena. We're lead into my chamber for my final preparations. In the Capitol, this part of the arena is called the Launch Room. Back in District 12, we call it the Stockyard, the place where animals are slaughtered. Everything here is brand-new and I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. After that, this arena will become a historic site, preserved after the Games for Capitol citizens to have as a vacation spot.

I shower and clean my teeth, Portia fixes my hair so it's out of my face, and then the clothes arrive, the same for all tributes. Portia had no say in the outfit, she doesn't even know what's in the package, but she helps me get dressed. The outfit consists of a light green shirt, simple tawny pants, a sturdy brown belt, and a simple hooded black jacket.

"The jacket will reflect body heat, so expect some cold nights." Portia tells me. Then she helps me put on my shoes, soft leather boots worn over skintight socks. The shoes are comfortable enough. Portia has me test everything out; making sure it all fits comfortably. "Good. It fits perfectly." She says.

"There's nothing to do but wait now." I say to her, sitting down.

"Do you think you can eat anymore?" she asks. I shake my head, but accept a glass of water, gulping the whole thing down nervously and asking for more.

My nervousness turns into flat-out fear as I think about what's to come. I could very well be dead by the end of the day, maybe sooner. If the Careers decide they don't need me to find Katniss, if some lucky non-Career kills me in the bloodbath. Various scenarios of my death play out in my head, increasing the tension in my chest. Portia is the one to break the silence.

"Do want to talk?" she asks worriedly. I shake my head, but she holds out her hand to me. I take it, accepting her comfort, which feels genuine, coming from her. We're sitting like this when a cool female voice announces that it's time to prepare for launch.

Still clinging to Portia's hand, we walk over to the circular metal plate. "Be careful out there." Portia tells me. I nod as my answer, afraid my voice might crack if I speak. "I believe in you, Peeta. I know you're strong enough to make it." She says, giving my hand a squeeze. As much as I've accepted that I'm going to die, very soon, in this arena, her words are still comforting, helping ease some of the tension in my chest. "Thank you." I tell her softly.

"Good luck, Peeta." She tells me and she kisses me one last time on the cheek.

The glass cylinder begins to fall between us, breaking our handhold and separating us. Portia smiles at me through glass. I take two deep breaths as the metal plate begins to rise, pushing me out of the cylinder, out into the open air. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the sunlight and I feel the strong wind and smell the scent of pine trees off in the distance.

Then the voice of the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, booms all around the arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

Author's note: So, I know I've been going a little crazy with the Author's Note's, but this is my last one for awhile. So this is the end of the line for the chapter's I've written so far. Going through all of this and posting it has gotten me back into the swing of things and I hope to have chapter 11 up very very soon. A few days tops. Thank you so much for all of the comments and read. It's very much appreciated. :)